


Stress Relief

by Aquila_Star



Series: Powers of Persuasion [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Mutual Seduction, Smut, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6589291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aquila_Star/pseuds/Aquila_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks in and Bilbo was done with Dwarves. Journeying with them was far too stressful, and no relief was in sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Relief

Dwarves, Bilbo thought, were highly overrated. Obnoxious, stubborn, hot tempered, grumpy, oblivious, cantankerous Dwarves. He was done with them. Well, with one of them, anyway. He snatched up another piece of wood for the fire, muttering under his breath as he went.

The past two weeks had been an exercise in futility as far as Bilbo was concerned. The Dwarves were so very different form anything he'd experienced before, and he was having a hard time becoming accustomed to their loud, boisterous ways. They were free in a way even Hobbits weren't and yet, they were also closed off, and Bilbo was having a hard time figuring out where the line was. They were secretive about their language and to a lesser degree, their culture, rebuffing all Bilbo's attempts to learn, which was particularly annoying when they lapsed into Khuzdul, as they often did, leaving Bilbo increasingly frustrated and feeling left out. On the other hand, they were very free with their affections, towards each other and, increasingly, towards Bilbo. 

Some of the Dwarves were very friendly, actually...Bofur was always ready with a smile and a joke and a slap on the back, and Kili was remarkably affectionate with Bilbo, wrapping his arm around the Hobbit often, whenever he saw Bilbo frowning or...well just whenever. Fili was often right beside him, teasing Bilbo about his feet or his ears, or whatever unfamiliar part of Bilbo he'd settled on that day. Oin often engaged Bilbo regarding his knowledge of flowers and herbs, botany being something of a hobby for the healer, and Gloin often followed them, waxing poetic about his family and asking pointed questions about Bilbo's. 

Ori's attentions were much more subdued, though he was not at all shy, peppering Bilbo with questions about Hobbit culture, recording everything Bilbo said into his journal, scratching runes between sketches and doodles of the company and the various landscapes they'd passed through. Even Dwalin, however gruff and distant, had chuckled at Bilbo's more amusing anecdotes, his glares mellowing as time wore on. His brother was up front and direct, and Bilbo found himself quite taken with Balin's manner. He didn't mince words, but he spoke with a tact and wisdom that Bilbo had come to respect and admire. 

None of the Dwarves were terribly distant, far from it, but their differences still left Bilbo feeling like the odd man out, especially since he was still learning the rhythm of their interactions, and how they approached the work load and each other. It left him rather at odds, not being well versed in caring for the ponies, nor well prepared to stand watch or scout the area surrounding their campsites. He was a fair hand at cooking, but Bofur and Bombur had that area well taken care of, and there was much truth to the too many cooks in the kitchen thing. 

So Bilbo was left with only one area where he could make a real contribution, and that was collecting firewood. While it didn't make him very versatile, it did allow him some time to himself, which allowed plenty of time for reflection and, let's face it, grumbling. 

The one Dwarf who he wanted to connect with, he couldn't. Thorin was utterly standoffish, ignoring Bilbo whenever he could and rebuffing him with a derisive comment when he couldn't. While Bilbo was not foolish enough to believe that their heated encounter that first night meant anything more than a mutual lust and the securing of his services to the company, he had hoped that maybe, just maybe they'd have a chance at a repeat performance. Thorin's words that night, while not filled with affection, which Bilbo had hardly expected or wished for, had been filled with lust and appreciation, and had left Bilbo with the belief that it would be happening again. 

But it hadn't. Thorin had scarcely glanced his way, and had not laid a hand on him since that night. Bilbo pushed aside the pathetic thought that he'd followed Thorin because he was horny as hell and wouldn't pass up the chance for another tumble. It wasn't strictly true, after all, despite his initial rejection, Gandalf's words had pushed Bilbo into serious contemplation, and while he hadn't decided to go on the Quest before Thorin had invaded his room and his mind, he hadn't decided not to, either. 

The truth was, his life at Bag End had been lonely and rather dull, as comfortable as it was. He was well respected if not very popular, his tendency towards books and maps had been odd for a Hobbit, his fascination with Elves and the history of the wide world beyond the Shire had been downright eccentric, and while he had many friends and various family members willing to keep him company, he'd found that he hadn't much in common with them. Besides, he had never been terribly fond of constant company, another fact which had set him apart from the rest. He'd never managed a serious relationship, limiting himself to fumbles in his youth and short affairs later on, but no one had seemed interested in taking it any further, least of all Bilbo. 

He didn't regret leaving Bag End, however often he found himself bemoaning the lack of comfortable beds and seven square meals a day, but sometimes he needed to vent his frustrations. And, as Thorin seemed unwilling to lend Bilbo a hand, so to speak, he'd been left with no choice but to find another outlet. Grumbling didn't have quite the same effect, but it was all there was to be had. 

So there he was, gathering a large pile of firewood onto a small tarpaulin and muttering under his breath at the unfairness of it all. For Thorin was as handsome and alluring as ever, his icy attitude had done nothing to change that, and Bilbo often found himself sporting a poorly timed erection. Now was one of those times, unfortunately. Thorin had been in a disgustingly attractive strop all day, having exchanged hushed but heated words with Gandalf on and off for the last few days, their discussion reaching a peak that had left Thorin, well, in a pique of temper. His dark countenance had not made him any less desirable, and after two weeks, Bilbo was becoming hard pressed not to find an excuse to go a little further from camp than was his wont and find a spot where he could relieve himself of his pent up frustrations. Very hard pressed.

He sighed, glancing at the area around him as he decided to do just that. He couldn't go on like this. Not when Thorin had set a precedent of mind blowing orgasms in Bilbo's head before pushing him aside with a scoff. Bilbo couldn't be expected to go without now, could he? Since Thorin seemed unwilling to help out, Bilbo would have to take care of matters on his own. 

Tossing the last few dried branches on the tarp, he tied the bundle up, ready to drag back to the campsite, and chose a path. There was a small stream to the east, so he avoided that, heading in a vaguely northwest direction, directly away from camp. After walking for a few minutes he found a depression behind an outcropping of rock, rather like a grass lined bowl. It was the perfect place to tug one off, just enough to set his mood to rights before rejoining the Company. 

Bilbo leaned against the rock and sighed, closing his eyes and lifting his face to the dwindling sunlight and just breathing in the quiet for a moment. He was rapidly becoming fully hard, thoughts of Thorin and release spinning through his mind and he palmed himself through his trousers, squeezing idly as he breathed in the cool evening air. 

He tugged at the clasps holding his cock inside, eager to pull his aching flesh out and...

“In need of some stress relief?”

Bilbo gasped, his eyes snapping open in shock as he saw just who had invaded his private moment, again. As if he needed his eyes to tell him who it was, his ears had confirmed the voice from the first word. 

“Thorin!” he said, his hands frozen on the front of his trousers. “What are you doing here?”

“You ask me that a lot,” Thorin replied, moving toward Bilbo with surprising grace for one of his bulk.

“You call twice a lot?” Bilbo snapped back, his ire rising at Thorin's amused tone, as well as the lust in his eyes. How dare he approach Bilbo like this again, after treating him as an after thought and a burden these past few weeks. “On the other hand, considering how many words we've spoken to each other since we met, I suppose a lot actually fits.”

“Hmmm,” was all Thorin said in reply, stalking towards Bilbo with a predatory air. 

“Seriously though, just what do you think you're doing?” Bilbo demanded, standing up straight with his hands on his hips, giving Thorin his best glare and trying not to notice how broad his shoulders were, how intense his eyes, or how the smirk on his lips brought back memories of that same mouth wrapped around Bilbo's cock, or sucking bruises onto his skin. 

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Thorin replied, stalking close enough to frame Bilbo's face with his arms, bracing them on the rock behind him. 

“Obvious perhaps, but not terribly appropriate, considering,” Bilbo said, shoving at Thorin's chest ineffectively. Bilbo found himself ruing the day that Aule had carved the Dwarves from stone. Irritating, immovable, immutable stone. 

“Why not?” Thorin asked, leaning close enough to bury his nose into Bilbo's unruly curls. “You still want it.”

“That's, uh...that's neither here nor there,” Bilbo said weakly, Thorin's proximity was wrecking havoc with his control. The heady scent that Thorin gave off was much deeper and more earthy than it had been that night in Bag End, no doubt a result of constant travel with few stops for bathing. He resisted the urge to breath deeply, or to reach out and run his tongue over Thorin's neck. 

“Anyway, how can you be so sure I still want _you_?” Bilbo asked, immediately kicking himself for giving Thorin such an in. He'd tried to be discreet, but after all, Thorin had figured him out almost as soon as he'd stepped through Bilbo's door. He knew Bilbo had wanted him almost before Bilbo did. 

Thorin's deep chuckle vibrated through his chest, and Bilbo's as well, leaving him shaky with need. 

“I'm sure,” Thorin said. “Your glares at me these past few weeks have made it perfectly clear, as have your grumbles and this tense line you've worked into your shoulders.” He lifted his hands from the rock and gripped Bilbo's shoulders instead, kneading the muscles at the back of his neck, and Bilbo could not stop himself from letting out a groan of appreciation. He was terribly tense, that much was clear. 

“This was the final clue, really.” Thorin reached down with one hand and gripped Bilbo's cock, in much the same way as he had that first night, dragging his palm up and down the swollen flesh. 

Bilbo knew resistance was impossible. He wanted Thorin as desperately as he had since the Dwarf had stepped foot into his smial, his cold attitude of the past few weeks had done nothing to cool Bilbo's ardour. Oh, he may not like Thorin very much, as a person, but as a lover...well. That was another thing altogether.

“I thought, uhh...um,” Bilbo began, trailing off as he swallowed heavily, attempting to pull his thoughts together before giving in completely. “You said, that...that night, you said...”

“Yes?” Thorin asked, leaning in once more and licking a broad swath across Bilbo's neck. 

“Ungh, I...you said you could smell it,” Bilbo tried again. “Could smell me. My, uh...that.”

“I could,” Thorin mumbled. “I can.”

“Not like you've been close enough to smell me since we left Bag End,” Bilbo snapped, remembering suddenly that he was angry with Thorin for dismissing him so completely. 

“You are far too distracting. And not well suited to this level of travel, are you?” Thorin pulled back to look him in the eye coolly, his gaze shifting from lustful to exasperated before switching back again. His shifting emotions made Bilbo's head swim. 

“I...uh, perhaps not,” Bilbo admitted. “But considering how you got me to come on this journey, I'd imagine you could be a bit friendlier.”

“Do you want me to be friendly or _friendly_?” Thorin asked, the emphasis put on the second friendly leaving no doubt as to his meaning. 

“Both,” Bilbo stated blankly, tilting his chin up and looking Thorin right in the eye. 

“I'm not a friendly person, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, his mood darkening once more, and for a minute Bilbo was afraid that he'd pushed too far, that he'd pushed Thorin away altogether. “And as to the other, you could have asked. Having just admitted why you followed me in the first place, I'd not think it too bold for you.”

“I...asked ?” Bilbo exclaimed, pushing Thorin backwards again. “And just when would I have had that opportunity? I'm hardly going to stroll up to you while the Company is eating dinner and ask if you'd like to bend me over the closest log!”

“Mmmm,” Thorin purred, pushing past Bilbo's meagre defences, his arms wrapping around Bilbo's waist as he bit down on Bilbo's neck. Bilbo cried out, whimpering when Thorin soothed the bite with a hot, wet tongue. “That would have been an offer I couldn't refuse.”

“You...you're...insufferable,” Bilbo said, frustrated but unable to put much heat into his words, not when one of Thorin's hands was groping his backside and the other was tugging the shirt from the waistband of his trousers. Once that was accomplished Thorin slid his hand to the front, finishing the job Bilbo had begun and pulling his cock of of his far too snug trousers. Bilbo was unable to hold back a gasp at the feel of Thorin's cool hand on his heated flesh. All thoughts had fled him, all except the immediacy of Thorin's touch. 

Although he'd been hoping for it all along, he was still stunned, wondering how he'd ended up hard and wanton in the arms of Thorin Oakenshield for a second time. He'd been angry before, hadn't he?

It was hard to remember, what with Thorin's hand now groping the bare flesh of his rear, blunt fingers rubbing with tantalizing gentleness over Bilbo's puckered entrance, while the other squeezed his cock with not quite enough pressure. 

“Tell me now,” Thorin demanded, pulling back to look at Bilbo with hot eyes, his lips red and shiny from their work at Bilbo's neck. 

“Hmm?” Bilbo asked, noting with surprise that his hands had left their position against Thorin's chest and were clutching his neck, tangled in his hair, one of Thorin's braids caught up in Bilbo's fist. 

“Oh, yes...well, go on then,” Bilbo said absently, distracted by Thorin's touch, one hand still on his cock and the other still pressed between his cheeks. 

“That'll have to do, I suppose,” Thorin murmured, his face once again buried in Bilbo's neck. He sucked harder on the skin there, perhaps a little too high up for Bilbo's cravat to cover, but he didn't care enough to stop him. He whined when Thorin's hands left him, one slipping out of his trousers and the other away from his cock, but then he realized that Thorin was undoing his own trousers and pushing up his leather jerkin. Bilbo was clutching a good portion of Thorin's hair, which left a tantalizing patch of his neck completely bare, and this time, Bilbo couldn't resist. 

He leaned forward and latched onto Thorin's skin, sucking gently at first, and when Thorin's chest vibrated with a low moan, he sucked harder, letting his teeth play at the skin in his mouth before biting down, eliciting a hiss from Thorin. Encouraged, he moved to a new patch of skin and did it again, Thorin's answering moans spurring him on. 

“Mahal, you are full of so much fire for so small a person,” Thorin growled, catching Bilbo's jaw with one hand, tipping his face up and biting Bilbo's bottom lip before thrusting his tongue in, kissing him with fierce abandon. Bilbo gave as good as he got, digging his fingers into Thorin's scalp to keep him close. Thorin pushed him roughly against the rock at his back, and Bilbo gasped into his mouth at the wet, hot slide of their very mutual arousal. 

Thorin slid his hands down the back of Bilbo's trousers, lifting him with hands that squeezed at Bilbo's cheeks, kneading as he pressed himself closer, melding their groins into a pocket of need between them. 

They continued like that, grasping, clenching, both giving as much as the other, taking what was offered with no apologies. Bilbo was far past delicacy, Thorin had lit that fire in his blood, perhaps not even realizing that the fire he desired from Bilbo was drawn out by his touch, his need. 

Bilbo was getting close, oh, so very close, so close he had to stop kissing and gasp for air. The two weeks of wanting without release had taken their toll. The press of Thorin against his body squeezed the very breath from him, but still he could not stop pushing, rolling his hips in time with Thorin's thrusts, pushing them both to the edge, unable to vocalize his pleasure for lack of air, making up for the loss by pulling hard at Thorin's hair. 

Then he was coming, hard, so hard, his body tensed and shaking, his legs around Thorin's waist protesting, muscles unused to such treatment. Bilbo couldn't even recall when he had lifted them, lost to Thorin's touch as he was. Thorin gasped into Bilbo's mouth, muttering something in Khuzdul with a thick, low voice, sending shivers up Bilbo's spine as he followed Bilbo into his own release, his cock adding to the slick between them.

“Eru...Thorin,” Bilbo panted, still trying to catch his breath, having more success now that Thorin's grip on him had eased. He held Bilbo in the stillness, both slipping down from their collective high, heartbeats slowing and breathing evening out. 

“Let me down,” Bilbo said at last, but Thorin only chuckled and pulled back to look at him. 

“You have me in a death grip,” he said, his obvious amusement bringing a flush of embarrassment to Bilbo's cheeks. 

“Oh, right.”

Bilbo loosened his legs, letting them slip down Thorin's thighs until they hit the ground, grateful that Thorin still had arms wrapped around him as his knees gave out. When he'd recovered he pulled his hands from Thorin's hair, resting them on his broad chest. 

“Ugh, we're a mess,” he said, pulling back further, prompting Thorin to release him. He leaned down and ripped up a patch of grass, using it to sloppily wipe their mingled come off Bilbo's belly before doing the same to his own. Bilbo wrinkled his nose when he realized how much of the mess had soaked into his shirt, but there was nothing for it, really. Anyway, none of them were clean by any means, so it didn't make much difference anyway. 

He realized then that they hadn't undressed at all, watching with amusement as Thorin rubbed a new patch of grass against his clothing, taking more care than he had with Bilbo's shirt. It occurred to Bilbo then, the reason why the air had been wrung from him, for Thorin's clothing wasn't quite armour, but it wasn't far from it, either, certainly much more unyielding than Bilbo's Shire made shirt and waistcoat. 

He followed Thorin's example and put his clothing to rights, tucking in his shirt and refastening his trousers. He was sore, aching legs, his back no doubt covered with bruises, his neck tender, scraped raw from Thorin's teeth and beard, but he couldn't deny that he was calmer. No longer irritated and tense, he tipped his head back and leaned against the rock face with a sigh, much as he had been when Thorin had stumbled upon him. Or perhaps, had come looking for him. 

Bilbo opened his mouth to ask, but the look that had shuttered across Thorin's face implored him to keep his silence. Thorin dragged a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair, attempting to restore normality to his appearance. It would have worked, too, had it not been for his red, swollen lips and the large red bruises where Bilbo had devoured his neck. 

Bilbo imagined he didn't look much better, he was certain his neck was a mess of bites and his hair an absolute disaster. He smoothed it down as best he could, giving it up as a bad job when Thorin cleared his throat and took another step back. 

“We'd best be getting back to camp,” he grunted, his voice taking on a distance again, so at odds to the heated tones of moments before. 

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed, sighing. “So...next time, I mean, assuming there will be a next time, I'll try to be more, that is to say...” Bilbo trailed off, knowing what he wanted to say but unsure of how to get there. 

“Next time, grow a backbone and ask,” Thorin said, shaking his head and looking at Bilbo with annoyance. “I'm not interested in a meek little bunny who can't stand up for himself or ask for what he wants.”

“I, oh!” Bilbo snapped, his frustration with Thorin's behaviour rising once more. “I'll have you know I'm no bunny, and I'm certainly not meek, however inexperienced with the wide world I may seem to your delusional mind.” 

Thorin scoffed, shaking his head again. “I'll believe it when I see it,” he said, turning away from Bilbo in the direction of the camp.

“You could be a little nicer, you know!” Bilbo called after him. If Thorin thought he could tell Bilbo what to do, well, Bilbo would speak his mind right back. 

“I'm not nice,” Thorin called over his shoulder. “If you haven't figured that out by now, perhaps there's no hope for you after all.” 

He disappeared around a the rock face, leaving Bilbo fuming once more, as irritated as he'd been before their encounter. It appeared that Thorin was going to revert to the distant, taciturn Dwarf he had been since the morning Bilbo had caught up to the Company, sitting his pony with an deliciously aching backside and wondering when he'd be able to get Thorin naked again. Oh, he'd have Thorin naked again, that much was certain, but Thorin had no intentions of opening himself up to Bilbo, even a little. The thought stung. Bilbo knew there was no love between them, they hardly even knew each other and at the moment, he couldn't even say that he liked Thorin. At all. And yet, his gut couldn’t help but twinge at the thought of going back to camp where Thorin would treat him with as much disdain as ever. 

He sighed, heading in the direction of the firewood, wondering if he'd be pressed to explain his extended absence or if the other Dwarves would take one look at him and leave well enough alone. This thing with Thorin was becoming more complicated, and the journey had only just begun. 

If he wasn't careful, he just might find himself in deep trouble.

**Author's Note:**

> Annnd, here's the next part. I'm stunned by how quickly this was wrung from me. It's not particularly long, but I'm still amazed I got it finished today. With three kids and a husband buzzing around, and a busy life to boot, I can't promise any kind of schedule for these ficlets. They'll come when they come, I suppose. 
> 
> On the other hand, I feel much less rusty...the words flowed as they used to, and I'm not done yet. Yay! Also, I'm already well into part three. Bunny, what have you done to me? I'm calling my bunny Bilbo, because of reasons.
> 
> Also, edited a bit, cause I need to rework my original story plan. Just a tweak, you may not notice it even if you've read this before. ;)


End file.
